


After This

by seperis



Series: Vix Te Agnovi [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-22
Updated: 2002-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which things aren't examined at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After This

**Author's Note:**

> Vive la romance, dammit. Sorta. Rebeccat for the beta. Thanks, chica.

Wide open afternoon, sunny and bright, with nothing to do--and he should do something. 

Instinct was screaming to call Chloe and just spill. Everything. Because--well, that's what he did. Since sixth grade, come to think of it, when they'd played spin-the-bottle at Lana's birthday party and snuck outside because Chloe had wanted to spit after kissing Patrick Johnson and didn't want to go alone. He'd been a lousy kisser or had bad teeth, Clark couldn't quite remember which now. They'd sat on the steps when she'd confessed her crush on Whitney Fordman (and no, the irony didn't escape Clark at all at this point), he'd told her about his on Lana (she'd known that but pretended she didn't) and they'd waited there until their parents came to pick them up at ten. 

It was habit, to tell what he could, when he could, to make up for what he never, ever would. And the reasons were becoming harder to justify, especially with Chloe and Pete, who he knew from the ground up, inside and out. Never hurt him, never want to use him for anything, never tell. He _*knew*_ they wouldn't. And it had slipped out between his lips a thousand times and he'd bitten it back a thousand times and wondered if lying by omission was really that big a sin on the friend-o-meter. Wondered if he could convince himself that it wasn't for much longer.

It had to happen soon, though--either soon or never at all, because one day, maybe when he was older and when he had to make his own decisions for real, he might want to tell and then--

\--see their faces when they looked at him. It wouldn't be shrieks of horror or words like freak and weirdo, and he knew they wouldn't be afraid of him--but they'd feel betrayed. And they'd have a right to be. Too many years went by, too much time, and there'd be no justification that they would ever want to listen to, and he couldn't even blame them for that. After all, there was a small, not very nice part of Clark that still resented that twelve years had passed before his parents felt comfortable telling him about his origins. 

And his parents had had reasons, * _good*_ reasons, for not telling him. But every, every reason that he could make for not telling Chloe and Pete was just a lie. There wasn't a good one. Not one that applied.

The loft was quiet and he'd been left to his own devices for the day--his parents had given him vaguely disapproving looks when he'd shown up this morning, citing plumbing difficulties at Lex's that the lack of current stable staff had made difficult for Lex to get fixed. It was plausible, though, and this lying thing was getting very, very easy to do. So easy, really, that his parents had barely tossed out a few perfunctory questions before going back for breakfast, letting Clark slip into his place at the table with minimal fuss and letting him go for his chores as soon as he'd finished while they did their morning rounds of the farm.

He was setting world records in farmwork today. Some barely-acknowledged need not to think and activity did that, but the fences were mended, the livestock fed and moved, the barn door repainted, and his loft cleaned to the standard of the average operating room and now he had nothing to do _*but*_ think. 

About life. Secrets. Sex. 

With Lex.

For, oh, the rest of the afternoon, and it was only one o'clock. This couldn't be good.

And he was still waiting for a nice little panic attack of some kind, or some burst of angst like he'd been watching on prime time television, and it wasn't happening like anything on there. The only roadmap to normality he had was shown at seven and eight on weekday nights and somehow, he couldn't even follow it in the most basic things, and here he was, very much not a virgin in every definition Clark had ever heard and well. 

Well. To be honest, his sexuality really * _was*_ the very least of his problems. Frankly, with his background, it was somewhat of a relief that he was attracted to anyone in the human race. Who knew? On his home planet, maybe people got down with the vegetation or something. God, what a thought.

But. He should be wondering about it. Normal people did. All the time, if Must-See-TV was to be believed.

Here he was, lying on his couch on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and was he actually _*looking*_ for a little more misery in his life? Because really, it wasn't like he didn't have quite a bit already to brood over regularly, so shouldn't he be relieved? Look, Clark, minimal stress, you had fun and it actually _*isn't*_ sending you into new and unexciting levels of unhappiness and you're worried about it?

He'd need a competent therapist soon at the rate he was going. Just to explain why he worried when he wasn't actively unhappy.

Clark rolled on his side and pulled his knees up, hoping to God that his parents took all this as normal-teenager-broody behavior, because as sure as the sun rose in the east and meteor rocks were bad things when humans got hold of them, he'd be spilling uncomfortable and illegal things with a little too much pushing. He'd had _*sex*_. Sex with his friend Lex, sex with Lex's leather pants, and the day was shaping up just like any other after all. Which wasn't rational at all--didn't it _*know*_ what he'd been up to when his parents thought he was safe in his bed last night?

And staring at Lana through the telescope wasn't going to clarify anything in this case. Dust motes danced from the sunlight pouring through the window in liquid gold--nothing quite like Kansas midwinter sun, hot until you felt the cold of the wind.

Like that chill when he'd heard in Victoria's voice outside Lex's door. Waking up sudden and sharp and no nice sleep-confusion for him, just absolute knowledge of what he'd done and what he was doing and what he'd like to be doing if Lex showed so much as the slightest sign of life. Lex, who slept like someone practicing for a future in catatonia, absolutely unconscious and limp and so warm, so easy to just wrap around and cuddle like Clark was desperately trying to deny he really, really liked. All that skin. Just-- _*there*_.

Victoria's rich, low voice, however, had been enough to drag Lex abruptly upright, not so much startled as really, really aware of all the meanings of the word 'busted'.

Okay, again, Lex-speak, let's say 'compromised'. 

And didn't he see this episode of 'Friends' or something? 

A little too classy to just drop and groan into the pillow, or maybe Lex was used to juggling a couple of lovers in a house, a disturbing thought if there ever was one. Just getting up and the sound of the closet door being quietly opened. Clark had kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep, and there'd been a light brush of fingers through his hair before Lex was gone.

When the door had closed firmly, Clark had dressed at record speed and left, and he hoped, to God or whoever had been watching over him for the last twelve or so years, that Lex never ever got around to asking how he got out of the house.

And frankly, if Clark couldn't see the sheer humor of this situation--the chuckle escaped and Clark rolled onto his back and laughed into the ceiling, laughed until his stomach clenched and something close to hysteria began to surface, making every sound he made just so--damn surreal. So his sense of humor was working. Good thing, that.

"Good mood, Mr. Kent?"

Clark sat upright so fast the blood in his head went spinning, and there was a brief moment of vertigo before vision de-blacked and the world turned back onto the correct axis. 

Lex hadn't moved, seemingly content to lean against the stair banister and watch him with a kind of thoughtful amusement. Or something along those lines, since what was on the face didn't necessarily match what went on behind the eyes. Too still to read his body, and unimpeachably dressed in a loose long sleeved t-shirt and coat thrown over it all, elegant and immaculate and slumming at the same time. Something like tension thrumming beneath the clothes, but Lex always seemed like someone on the edge of being overcaffeinated. Too much energy. God, so much, like whatever lived beneath his skin never really slept. Never really wanted to.

Vivid bruise peeking from beneath his collar, though, and Clark swallowed the almost irresistible temptation to do a full body search for the others.

"Hey." There had to be some good dialogue for this moment. "Feeling--okay?" Still wasn't sure what Lex had been--on--the night before, much less the possible next-day side effects.

A gloved hand lifted lightly, see-saw motion in the air, but his expression didn't change at all. 

"Been worse, been better. Thank you for the ride." Clark would not flush. Would not. Lex took the last step easily, but Clark caught the slightest tension in his left leg, the pause before smooth motion across the floor, dropping on the opposite arm of the couch with flawless coordination and a booted foot resting on the seat. "Your parents?"

"Oh." Clark blinked, pulling himself upright--something about being supine put him at even more of a disadvantage than usual, and he shimmied into the corner of the couch. "Um. Plumbing. Problems. Since you don't have a--full staff yet or. Anything." 

Lex's eyebrows raised slightly.

"Good thinking." The other foot settled on the couch seat, and Lex rested his elbows on his knees, unreadable gaze fixed on Clark. No idea what Lex wanted to see, or maybe Lex was just checking him for--inconvenient evidence. Since Lex didn't know about the Amazing Non-Bruising Skin or in fact, anything, no matter his what suspicions might be. "Are you okay?"

Okay?

"Yeah." He waited, wondering what Lex would say, what * _he*_ should say--but Lex's gaze flickered down, fixing somewhere around his throat for a few brief seconds that seemed to stretch the silence to the level of super uncomfortable at the speed of light. Clark shifted and the gaze came back up, fast and hot and something else entirely that he didn't have time to even begin to examine before Lex pushed off the couch--still that little wince when his leg touched the floor, and that made Clark curious--before he nodded, head tilted.

Utterly unreadable now, the Lex that Clark had seen dealing with hostile residents of Smallville and the one with that foot distance around him like armor, and it wasn't--at all what Clark had expected. The one wearing leather was about a thousand times more approachable.

"Good." And so--formal. Clark scrambled up, finding his feet more by luck than skill, and Lex didn't move, still watching him without expression and less welcoming than he'd ever been, and Clark was counting the time he'd walked in on Lex and Victoria with her shirt unbuttoned and on the desk in Lex's office that he'd been repressing with commendable willpower.

"Lex?" Took a step and tried to think through what exactly had gone very, very strange about this entire moment, and Lex reached into his pocket, pulling something out. The only item of clothing he hadn't been able to find, and Clark flushed as Lex tossed it on the couch.

"Still okay, Clark?"

Clark was close to shaking, and just now, he was beginning to wonder exactly what the hell was going on.

"What--" And he picked up the boxers, catching Lex turn and start toward the stairs and okay, he wasn't imagining it, Lex wasn't a-okay in any sense of the word. "Lex, did something--" Temptation was too strong, and Clark flickered into x-ray when Lex turned around and oh.

Oh.

Shit.

"Your leg," Clark said weakly at Lex's raised eyebrows, and Lex glanced down, obviously surprised.

"I hit it on something last night. It's nothing serious."

"Yes it is." Oh stupid, stupid, stupid to say anything at all, but--it didn't exactly take rocket science to figure out where that came from. Rewind, slow motion video of the memory and, no, he hadn't broken it, but _*damn*_....

"Clark?" Strange sound to his voice, and Clark refocused his gaze, meeting Lex's eyes. "Clark--"

"I'm sorry." There was nothing else he could think of to say. Lex just stared at him.

"You're sorry." Flat. And....what? Clark blinked, flicking his vision again, just from some sort of sick curiosity and a quick look told him a _*lot*_ about exactly what kind of damage they were talking about here. Or weren't, as the case might be. "For which part?"

What?

"I--Lex?"

"Clarity's important," Lex continued as if he hadn't said anything. "Though I have to admit, it's rather appropriate, all things considered."

Clark took a step forward, trying to work out what had gone weird so suddenly. And very wrong on a lot of levels that he got the feeling he wasn't even touching on yet and clarity _*would*_ be good, very good, any minute now. 

And he'd missed something because Lex was talking.

"...but you might keep in mind for future reference that walking out without an explanation is usually considered at very least bad manners."

"Bad manners?" Clark took another step and thought better of getting any closer. Lex was a big fan of personal space and right now, there might as well have been a wall up around him. Big one, very thick, very high, with a 'No Trespassing' sign flashing neon and okay, think, Clark. It's not like you have any siege equipment handy.

Or not, because that was kind of a tip off right there.

"Oh." Right. "That."

"Oh, that," Lex mocked softly, arms crossing now, tapping gloved fingers on his arm in a vaguely familiar rhythm. The one he used when he was talking about his father or late budget reports. Never a good sign.

"I--" Am sorry? Was worried about your girlfriend catching me, and yes, he _*had*_ seen this episode before and it went some seriously strange places, not to mention the horrifying embarrassment. The flush was already starting, burning into his skin like some sort of stigma. "I--didn't--wasn't sure what else to do." Which was weak as all hell, and still about as honest as he could get. 

"Because running out was obviously a viable solution."

Oh. Wow. He'd pissed Lex off. Not just annoyed, which was fairly often, or frustrated or even that edge of anger that showed up but never for long, but. Pissed. Him. Off. And in retrospect, yes, that did look like bad handling of the situation, but again, he hadn't exactly had a lot of examples to go by.

"I--Lex, cut me some slack, okay? I was--a little--" He needed a word. Preferably something that made sense. 

"Which is why I'm here instead of buying another car." Lex seemed to relax, or at least acknowledge that this was just a little too cliched, and Clark retreated back to the couch and Lex sat back on the arm. Still slightly favoring his leg, and that would be good for several days of guilt. God. Weeks, probably. "So. The question stands. Are you okay?"

Because--and this was hard, he had to think like Lex, who didn't think like anyone that Clark had ever met before--leaving meant something else entirely from what he'd assumed Lex would think.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean--. I was worried about--Victoria." So far so good. Lex was winding down, visibly at that, even if it was subtle. At least, he'd stopped tapping, resting both hands on the couch arm and leaning into it a little.

"I told you that I would handle it."

"You--you said it was--you and she were like a chess game." Hmm. That didn't sound too good. Or for that matter, very comprehensible. "You know, she's sort of living with you, and I'm not sure how things are in Metropolis, but--"

"Hmm." Maybe this was a sign of how young he still was, lack of practical virginity aside, because Lex was looking at him with something close to amusement. Better than the other stuff, but not by much. "All right, Clark. I understand that."

And another silence, just about as uncomfortable as the first but not as thick and Clark looked down at his hands. Breathe in, breathe out, say it. Flat out.

"We had sex."

"Yes, I noticed that," Lex answered, and there was the beginnings of a flickering smile. Like a candle flame in wind, or something. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes." Maybe. Clark drew in a breath, letting it out. "You were--not--um, still--you know. Whatever you were on last night?" _*That*_ part hadn't occurred to Clark until just recently, thank God, or he might have worked himself into some serious issues regarding consent.

"You think you took advantage of me?" A year's worth of sheer shock wrapped into a single sentence, and Lex slid down into the couch as if by accident. Clark dared a glance up and--okay, it was funny. And Lex's smile was a lot more real. Something in Clark relaxed.

"No! I mean, no, I don't think so but--I just--I'm not handling this well." Television, didn't go over this very often. He needed cable. Soon.

"You're doing fine." Lex sounded--thoughtful. "Come on." Lex levered himself up, and Clark blinked, gaping a little. "Let's go for a walk. Or a drive."

Right, right. Parents here. Discussion of sex, which probably would end up as the most embarrassing conversation of his life, and Clark nodded dumbly and got up, searching out his coat on the floor by the window. Straightening, and Lex was so close, personal space apparently nixed for the moment, and it looked like Clark didn't need siege equipment after all.

Light touch to his cheekbone, tracing down to his jaw, and Clark breathed in, moving into it without thinking. Soft leather, body memory waking up every nerve, he'd been right, he'd never see these gloves, feel these gloves, and not remember; getting hard was pure reflex. Thumb lightly drawing over his lower lip, and Clark felt Lex's eyes flicker over his face.

"I'm not sorry," Clark blurted out, and the rush of heat was--well, okay, embarrassing, but Lex paused briefly. 

"Good." Soft, different voice, the voice he'd heard last night. "Victoria left for Metropolis a little while ago." Careful slide down his chin, stopping on his jaw. Easy, so easy, to tilt his head, and Lex kissed him in the sunlight spilling through the window, warm and gentle and no wind with cold edges. Slow, careful, but thorough, licking inside his mouth like Lex was tasting him. Clark shivered, moving closer, feeling the warmth of Lex's body, wanting to touch him, almost there, but--. Lex pulled back far too soon. "Come on."

Clark nodded, touching his mouth when Lex turned around, still feeling the imprint of heat and leather, pulling his coat awkwardly on, feeling--God, a lot of things. 

Vague flashes of real life followed. Down the stairs, waving to his father, who looked disapproving but not any more hostile than usual, Lex pulling on his sunglasses and the BMW closing around him.

So. Okay.

Apparently, though, Lex was just fine now, and Clark shot him an almost-resentful glance. Driving like any other day in their lives, fields passing by so very rationally. Look, there's Nell Potter. Wave hello. All kinds of normal here.

"How long will--will she be gone?" Clark asked the windshield, tucking himself into the seat and trying to figure out--wasn't there some sort of etiquette involved in this?

"Monday at least. She has some business meetings." 

Oh. Huh. Clark fidgeted, aware that Lex was giving him casually interested glances, like when he was working on something that was giving him problems. The challenge look.

"You're not okay," Lex said, and Clark jerked his gaze up, aware that the castle was coming up fast--also aware that at some point he'd shoved his boxers into his coat pocket, which was weird but also probably smart, since he wasn't sure what his mother would make of finding them in the loft.

"I'm just--"

"Confused?" Lex was making this mundane as hell, which on some level was just--disturbing. Let's discuss this sex thing, Clark, like rational adults. Over coffee, perhaps. 

Sure, Lex, that would be swell, and by the way, are you and Victoria still going to do things--have _*sex*_ dammit, Clark, just say it, dear _*God*_ you're a dork--because I'm really sure I don't know how I feel about that.

Well, Clark, that's a good question and do you take cream and sugar?

God. Clark pushed his feet into the floorboard and viewed the rapidly approaching garage with a vague sense of disquiet. He was sure how he felt about Victoria and sex. But putting it in words was impossible.

"I'm fine, I told you." He didn't sound ten, did he? "I just--you know, just processing."

"Mm." Could have meant anything at all and the car was stopped. Lex wasn't moving, though, staring at the wheel for long seconds that actually helped out a little. He remembered that look from last night when it was on his own face, though with Lex, it was a little more subtle, a lot more subject to interpretation. But close.

"You have a lot of cars in here," Clark offered when the silence stretched again, beginning to trek over the border into highly awkward.

"I have a lot of bad days." Lex flicked his seatbelt off, apparently coming to a decision, and Clark slowly unfastened his, pushing open the car door. The garage was wonderfully quiet, with the familiar smell of oil and paint and clean car--addictive smell, come to think of it. The far door was familiar--through there was the corpse of the Porsche, which still seemed slightly creepy until Clark remembered that he had two pet frogs, a rabbit, and a cat buried in his backyard that he still visited occasionally. So. He had his dead pets and Lex had his dead car. Made a weird sort of sense, aside from the entire issue of secrets.

The entrance from the garage was into a hall Clark hadn't seen before, and a left took them straight into the kitchen. God, this place was huge. Maybe he should ask for a map.

"Can I get you anything?" Lex asked, and Clark found a stool, pulling it up to the wide counter. 

"Water's fine," Clark asked and a bottle spun itself neatly across to him. Picking it up (no need for cream and sugar in this conversation, apparently), Clark twisted the top off and looked up as Lex shut the refrigerator.

Lex leaned into the counter and opened his water. Clark studied his bottle lacking anything better to do at the moment. The silence was becoming more weird by the second.

"This could be worse," Lex said thoughtfully, and Clark jerked his gaze up. Lex was studying his water with a little smile.

Clark couldn't help laughing. "How?"

"I'm trying to figure that out, too." Clark got the feeling Lex was trying to figure a lot of things out, and wow, Lex probably had to process, too. For some reason, it really hadn't occurred to Clark that Lex would--well, _*need*_ to. Sex shouldn't be that scary to him. 

Though--and sitting here, in the clean, very practical lines of the kitchen with all the bright sun and nice metal appliances--it was suddenly occurring to Clark that at least a part of this might have nothing to do with sex at all. Clark pulled up an image of what he would have said to Chloe if--this--had happened between them and _*okay*_ , not a good idea, but also, * _got*_ it. 

"I didn't mean anything by leaving so fast," Clark offered, trying not to read meaning into the fact Lex was stroking the water bottle. "Really. Just Victoria. Finding me there. Here." And you know, the woman broke into her lover's computer without much hesitation. Clark wasn't sure what she would do with information like Lex was fucking underage kids in Smallville. Couldn't be good, any way you cut it.

"She wouldn't have been--" Lex cut himself off, frowning now, then looked up. "Next time, leave a note, all right? Just to save me an hour or so of searching."

Something in Clark's stomach fluttered a little, pushing the swallowed water aside, and Clark forced himself to stare at his bottle long and hard.

"Next time." Breathed out a little, wondering if it would be better or worse just to get up, corner Lex against the counter and leave everything that neither of them were saying to just fend for itself. And it might be a symptom of his fixation that the water bottle was becoming awfully symbolic. "So--she's gone for the rest of the weekend?" Didn't dare look up, even think about what he was saying, but he heard--Lex moving. Space between them becoming something to be measured in fractions. Very, very small ones. Heat he could breathe.

"Yes." Very close, very low, that voice, that turned Clark inside out, and he dared a look up. Blue eyes that seemed to be filled with all the light in the room, making it seem dark and grey, utterly unreal. Leaning forward just a little, reached to touch skin, and he was kissing Lex, who wasn't objecting at all. All sweet and slow and almost teasing, pushing him into the stool, counter against his back.

Lex, touchable Lex, letting him push the jacket off, slate-colored shirt beneath Clark's fingers, pushing his legs apart and moving closer until Clark could feel the hard press of Lex's erection through jeans and pants. Slow, hard strokes of his thighs up to his hips, under the waist of his shirt. Cutting into his skin with blunt nails, and Clark gasped when Lex rocked against him, fast and hard and pulling him closer at the same time. Breathless moment where Lex was staring down at him and _*this*_ he recognized, this he knew. Lex wanted him.

Lex pulled back a little, looking at him with slick lips and eyes so dark the iris seemed to have disappeared. One hand on his face, stroking and pushing back his hair gently.

"Get your jeans open," he whispered, and Clark sucked a breath, hands tightening convulsively on Lex. Knowing he was staring, unable to help it, and it was an effort, to drag his hands down, try to work that suddenly tiny button that didn't want to move. So tempting to just rip, and wow, _*that*_ would be an explanation to his parents that he could live without. Fumbling it open more by a miracle than any real coordination, pushing down the zipper. Staring at the line of Lex's throat because he wasn't sure what else to do.

Lex brushed his mouth over Clark's, light and soft and too fast for anything but echoes of sensation, before his hand slid into the open space, over Clark's boxers. Instant jerk of heat, moving Clark's entire body involuntarily. Moving almost lazily, sliding effortlessly inside the opening and bare, callused fingers dragging over the skin. Curling around him and just squeezing lightly, and Clark reached back, grabbing for the edge of the counter.

"Shh," he said when Clark made a noise that he didn't think was even possible. "You'll enjoy this. Promise." A quick movement, he was out of his boxers in the cool kitchen air and then he _*wasn't*_ , he was in Lex's mouth and he arched against the counter.

"Lex--" Couldn't help looking down, watching this happen, right here, in a kitchen, to him. Sucking pressure that made him feel as if his spine would come unglued, moving farther down each time, Lex's hands on his hips holding him relatively still until a convulsive movement and he was--God, _*buried*_ in Lex's mouth. "Oh--God, that's--so good." And so stupid, but words weren't doing any sort of check-in at his head, and it didn't matter anyway. Lex's hands, encouraging him to move his hips, and even sitting on the stool, that wasn't too difficult, thrusting into--Lex's _*mouth*_ , and Lex humming something that sent shivers beneath his skin. Feeling the counter edge want to give and letting go, but there was no place to grab, nothing to ground him. Wanted to touch Lex, couldn't or he might break him, and grabbed his own thighs and took a shallow breath.

It was fast, so fast he was shocked at the rush, no control at _*all*_ , how embarrassing, and didn't know what to do when it started and then stopped caring. Staring up at the ceiling and trying to breath, sparks dancing drunkenly and life rushing by and it was--

\--God. Oh God.

A few brief seconds, Lex's tongue soft and slow, then pulling back, away. Tucking him back inside his boxers and pushing up, cupping his face again. Little smile turning up the corner of his mouth and Clark sucked in a shuddering breath, leaning into Lex and shutting his eyes. Warm cotton under his forehead and Lex was threading his fingers through Clark's hair, casually possessive. Almost--affectionate?

Maybe he'd never move again. 

"Come upstairs with me."

Clark swallowed hard, lifting his head, just enough not to disturb the touch of Lex's fingers.

"Okay."


End file.
